Beneath the Mask
by Spirit Seer
Summary: A collection of various drabbles and scenarios. Drabble 3: Elizabeth does not competition to her crown. Drabble 4: "...You're sure you're Spanish, right, Francesca?"
1. How Far We Have Fallen

Uncreative Disclaimer: I do not own Amazing Agent Luna. That belongs to Nunzio deFillipis, Christina Weir, Shiei, and Seven Seas, and anyone else I have neglected to mention but legally owns the work.

A/N: Spoilers through Volume 7 are in the bottom Author's Note and in the story itself.

This is intended to be a collection of drabbles and/or one-shots from various points in the series, some possibly AU. I will try to denote where it takes place in the story in that instance, but if I forget and you would like to know, please don't hesitate to ask.

This first drabble is Control-centric, set sometime after Volume 7 and inspired by the preview summary for Volume 8.

* * *

How Far We Have Fallen

* * *

The door opened quietly behind Control as she turned toward the stairs. "Luna, you're back early. How did the mission—" Her eyes widened as they landed on the unmasked, bloodied figure carried in the arms of a knight. A second later, the safety clicked off of her handgun as she directed it upon the intruder. "You! What did you do to Luna?" Her tone rose to near-hysterical at the sight of her injured daughter, but her hands held firm around the weapon.

The knight stopped a few feet away from her, blue eyes piercing from the metal slat in the visor. "Please lower your weapon, my lady," a male voice requested. "I mean you no harm."

"Then what did you do my agent?" Control retorted. "I should shoot you for the knowledge that you already possess." She tightened her finger around the trigger, but paused when the knight continued speaking calmly,

"Your agent was ambushed on the mission she was sent on. The target knew that she was coming and was prepared. They would have killed her if I had not stepped in to rescue her, but I will not interfere in this way again." The knight took another step forward and then slowly laid the unconscious Luna on the floor.

Control paused a moment to allow the knight to step away from Luna, his hands held out in front of him, open-palmed in a gesture of peace. She then immediately ran to her daughter, placing her gun beside her on the floor so that she could half-cradle Luna. "Luna," she murmured desperately. "Luna, please, can you hear me?"

Luna moaned softly, her muscles tensing from pain. Her eyes fluttered slightly. "Control…?" she murmured. It was barely a whisper. "I… I failed to… neutralize… the target…. I'm so… sorry…" She gave a tiny whimper, and then her head rolled to the side as she passed back into unconsciousness.

Control's grip around Luna tightened. "No," she whispered, "it is I who am sorry for sending you on that blasted mission." She gritted her teeth and forced back the wetness threatening to fall at the sight of her bloodied agent and daughter. She should have listened to Andy. Taking a deep breath, she looked squarely up to face the knight still waiting before her. "If I am not mistaken, you are a member of Knightfall. You do not have any allegiances with America or our Agency. Why did you bring my agent back?"

The knight appeared to pause for moment, and then he responded, "I owed a debt of gratitude to your agent. A knight's chivalry demands that he repay his debt to a lady. However, I will not be allowed to act thusly again."

Control took in his words, not sure if she should be grateful for his actions or concerned for Luna's past actions that she had failed to report. What else might Luna have neglected to tell her? The thought was disconcerting, but she forced it from her mind. "You have done your duty, then. Why are you still here?"

The knight inclined his head toward Luna. "I have not fully repaid my debt. I did not save her with the intention of leaving her to die."

Control's eyes narrowed. "You dare to think that I would kill my agent because of a failed mission?" she hissed.

"I did not imply you, my lady," the knight said. "I spoke in reference to your Agency. Do you not know the price of your agent's failure in their eyes? Surely they reminded you of it?"

His words held a hint of bite, but the chills that went down Control's spine were brought by the truth of his words and the fact that he had knowledge of it.

"Of course they did," she bit back coldly. "And I'll fake reports if I have to. Kill, if I have to. I will not allow Luna to die."

The knight chuckled mirthlessly. "Perhaps a better idea is to run. Your Agency has already heard of her failure, and they are already on their way to terminate Project Luna, including you and the civilian psychologist, if you attempt to stop them."

Control's eyes widened. "How can they already be on their way?" she shouted. "How would they even know?"

"Do you think your Agency's ears that limited? Or a lack of those willing to sell that information?"

Control gritted her teeth. So there was outside interference. She cursed and clutched Luna tighter against her, her daughter's blood seeping onto her coat. She glared defiantly up at the knight. "I won't let them harm her!"

"You may not have a choice," the knight responded calmly. "One trained official and a psychologist civilian is hardly enough against a team of trained agents. Your agent will be dead before the sun rises." He paused for a moment. "However…"

Control's eyes narrowed. "What are you offering?" she asked suspiciously.

"My organization, Knightfall, is always willing to extend a hand to those in need of shelter. After all, the epitome of knighthood is chivalry, my lady," he explained.

"You want me to betray my country?" Control shot back, outraged.

"No. I am merely presenting you with a choice: betray your country…" the knight trailed off.

"Like hell I will!"

"…or betray your daughter."

Control flinched. Her arms trembled as she cradled her unconscious daughter in her arms. Was he really asking her that? He must be joking.

She glared up into his ice-blue eyes, daring him to voice his challenge again. The knight stared back with his ice-blue eyes, unbending.

Control looked away, her gaze falling to the ground as her grip tightened around Luna. Her decision was made a long time ago.

"Save my daughter," she ordered.

The knight inclined his head toward her, an air of satisfaction surrounding him as he half-bowed. "Then welcome, my ladies, to Knightfall."

* * *

A/N: This feels like a piece of a larger story. Perhaps I'll continue it elsewhere. That would be fun.

I wonder why Control didn't consider that Knightfall might have arranged the ambush and then sold the information as a way to bring Luna into Knightfall, if they were actively seeking her. After all, Anders starts planting seeds of doubt within Luna, and he seems intent on pulling her away from her agency (although, admittedly, Control didn't know that either). She was probably too distracted by Luna being injured; she tends (understandably) lose her focus where Luna is concerned as of late.

This was written as a possible scenario to see how Luna might end up in Knightfall, and also to demonstrate Control acting on the proclamation that she made in Volume 5, that she would do anything to protect Luna, as Luna's her daughter.

Hope you enjoyed it! Please share your thoughts as we anxiously await Volume 8 in December!


	2. Spanish Tears

Uncreative Disclaimer #2: The author does not own the amazingly awesome _Amazing Agent Luna._ That belongs to Nunzio DeFillipis, Cristina Weir, Shiei, Seven Seas, and anyone whom the title belongs to that I may have neglected to mention.

**A/N:** And we're back with a second drabble/one-shot! This one focuses on Francesca. This takes place right after Francesca's study-dinner date with Timothy in Volume Four. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Spanish Tears

* * *

"_You come to this mall a lot?"_

Francesca pulled her blanket closer around her as Timothy's words rang through her head. She sighed as she leaned her cheek against her hand, her eyes roaming aimlessly at the drenched streets below as she sat on her window seat.

Why did his question bother her so? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something in it tugged at her. Her eyes lowered. Timothy thought that it was sad. Although she had disagreed, that must be why it had stuck in her mind.

She really didn't have a reason to be sad, though, did she? After all, she had a roof over her head. She was intelligent; perhaps she was not a genius (like Timothy or his friend Martin), but she was above-average. She had two homes, one in America and one back in Spain. She could speak Castilian Spanish and English fluently, and she was currently mastering both French and German, whereas some people struggled learning a second language.

She had friends. Sure Francesca had had a spat with Elizabeth, but she learned what a real friend was with Luna and Oliver, hadn't she?

She had both of her parents, whereas some people had only one or none. Sure they were gone most of the time—like then—but Francesca could go to the mall whenever she wanted. Wasn't that every girl's dream, spending their lives in the mall, shopping for fashionable clothes and cute accessories? And after shopping to their heart's content, to come home and have the house to oneself?

"_You come to this mall a lot?"_

Francesca sighed, moving to lean her cheek against the cool glass as she closed her eyes. Why was that shadow persisting, when she had just listed all the things that she was grateful for in her life?

Finally, she sat up, leaving the window seat and moving onto her bed. Once she had rearranged her blanket around her, she reached over and pulled Mateo, her stuffed polar bear, over and clutched him to her chest. Gently, she rocked herself back and forth on the bed, once again willing the tightness in her heart to go away.

Once again, it stubbornly remained, refusing to leave its habitation.

Why was she feeling this way? Why couldn't she feel just as happy by herself as she did with Luna and Oliver?

Francesca clutched Mateo tighter as the first tear fell. First one tear, and then another. She tried to restrain herself at first, asking herself why was crying, why should she cry, she had no reason to—but once again, the tears only cascaded down her cheeks, and she broke down into sobs.

"I'm so lonely, Mateo," she whispered to Mateo. "So, so _lonely_…!" Just whispering this to herself, Francesca cried harder.

She was always able to hide it so well at school, so why couldn't she at home?

Perhaps it was because of the silence.

School held hustle and bustle. The mall was always noisy, especially in the food court. Whenever she was shopping, she was distracted. On her way home (or the mall), she had music playing, either the car radio or her iPod. When she got home, as long as she was doing her homework, she never thought about being alone. She even played music while she was working, the added sound making the empty house feel less intimidating. Or cheerier when her parents were home and they started fighting.

When Francesca was with Luna and Oliver, she had companionship, friendship. Oliver was always up to some antic, usually to try and please Luna, and Luna was always cheerful, innocently unaware of Oliver's attempts, since she was blinded by her crush on Jonah. There was never a dull moment with those two. It was always full of laughter.

Why wasn't she able to hide herself now?

The silence forced her to face herself as she really felt—_lonely_.

Francesca felt lonely with her parents gone and lonely with them there. She longed for them to just _be there_, not come and go in a blink, having their eternal spats. She wanted them to love her, not simply see her as what they didn't have, using that as an excuse to leave her by herself.

She laughed mirthlessly as her words to Luna came back, mocking her: _"Mine fight all the time too. Just remember that it's never really about you."_ It was true that her parents fought all the time, but it was a lie to say that they never fought about her.

Well, they didn't. Not all the time. But when they did, they didn't fight over Francesca being herself.

They fought over Francesca being what she wasn't.

Francesca pulled her knees to her chest as her sobs resumed at a greater magnitude.

Her parents had always wanted a son. They had never wanted a daughter. However, her mother had had difficulty bearing a child. She had even had two miscarriages prior to Francesca's birth. Finally, her mother was able to carry a child the full term, and her parents were so excited that they would finally have their son.

Instead, Francesca disappointed her parents by being born a girl. Adding insult to their injury, the doctors informed her parents shortly after her birth that, given the strain upon her mother's body, she could not bear any more children. Her parents were devastated.

Sixteen years later, Francesca was still not the boy her parents always wanted. Consequently, as she grew up, her parents were around less and less. They gave her just enough time as she needed to survive, but other than that, she was on her own.

They told her that they loved her. They told her that they wanted to be there with her. They told her that they wished that they didn't have to spend so many trips away from her.

But Francesca knew the truth. Even she could hear their yelling and screaming through their door. She first heard it when she was five years old, and she never forgot it nor failed it hear it since.

She wanted her parents. She wanted to show her that they loved her, instead of always telling her that they did. She wanted them to be there for her when she needed them and even when she didn't need them, because then they'd _be there_. She wanted them to _want_ her the way she wanted them.

Above all, Francesca wanted their _love_.

At first, Francesca had thought that, if she could be more like the boy they wanted, she could make up for being the girl that they didn't want and that they would want her. She started doing sports and dressing like a boy. She cut her hair short. It had even worked for a little while.

But what the then five-year-old girl didn't understand was that to pretend to be what you weren't was simply that—_pretend_. A charade. A mask.

And once the mask falls, you're left with what you were before.

It may have taken her until she was thirteen, but Francesca finally realized that it was a waste of time. She would never be the boy her parents always wanted.

She would always be a girl. Nothing would ever change that.

Consequently, Francesca decided that she would make herself be who _she_ wanted to be, instead of chasing after an image that her parents fantasized. She did, and she never looked back, not even once.

Ironically, it was Elizabeth Westbrook who taught her that.

"_You're such a tomboy, Francesca! Why are you trying so hard to be a boy when you could be a really cute girl? Are you trying to please somebody, or what?"_

_The thirteen-year-old Francesca had stared at Elizabeth, her eyes wide in shock. She mumbled, "W-Well, my parents had always wanted a boy, so I thought if I—"_

"_If you what? Masqueraded as the opposite gender that you'd give them what they wanted?" Elizabeth had snorted. "That's idiotic. You're never going to change your gender, Francesca. You might as well please yourself, as you're obviously never going to please them." Then she had smiled. "C'mon, I know this little place at the mall where we can find some really cute clothes. We need to get you out of that horrendously-male outfit and turn you back into a girl!"_

Francesca smiled sadly at the memory. Yes, she owed a lot to the Elizabeth that her friend used to be, before she became stuck-up and obsessed with boys and status. But regardless of what Elizabeth had become, she would always be grateful for the catalyst that she had provided.

Francesca had bloomed into the flower that she was meant to be when she finally shed the mask that she had donned in an attempt to please her parents. She didn't regret her decision, either—even if her parents were around even less now. Although she hadn't admitted it, her parents had scheduled their business trip to Spain so that they wouldn't be around when Family Week had occurred purposely. Francesca had joked about being an orphan then, but she practically was.

But she was used to it by now, at sixteen, wasn't she? It shouldn't bother her now, right?

Why was she still so lonely?

Didn't she at least have Luna and Oliver?

Admittedly, there were times when Francesca really didn't feel like she fit in with Luna and Oliver. Sure, they were friends, but with Luna chasing Jonah and Oliver chasing Luna, and Francesca uncertain if she was chasing Oliver or not (did she really like him that way, or was she simply lonely and trying to spite Elizabeth?), some days, she just felt like the third wheel.

It felt like they were becoming distant, some days. She really didn't know them that well, did she?

How close of friends were they? Would they come if she called them, crying, and asked them to come?

Her grip tightened around Mateo as Francesca recalled that, yes, Luna had already done so. One night, when her parents were fighting about her, she had called Luna and begged her to come. (She had been crying so hard that, thinking back, she wasn't sure _how_ Luna had understood her through her tears.) Luna had even climbed up her tree and into her room through her window so that she could sneak in without Francesca's parents noticing. Although Luna couldn't offer much comfort in the form of words, Francesca didn't mind. After all, Luna had stayed to offer presence and hold her while she was crying—what she had always wanted from her parents. Francesca had been grateful, even if they hadn't mentioned it again.

Suddenly, Francesca knew what she needed to do.

Francesca choked back another sob as she reached for her cell phone, dialing Luna's home number.

"_Hello?"_

"L-Luna? Is that you?"

"_Francesca! What's wrong?"_ Luna asked on the other end of the line, her voice etched with worry.

"C-could you please come over? I'm sorry that it's so l-late, but, p-please…"

"_Of course, Francesca! I'll be right over!"_

The line disconnected.

Francesca smiled as more tears fell at the promise of her friend's arrival. However, when she turned to look out the window, waiting for approaching car lights, she frowned in concern. It was still raining, and quite heavily, at that. Would Luna change her mind about coming?

However, when Luna arrived fifteen minutes later, climbing up the tree again to enter through her window, Francesca's fear was reverted. Luna was soaking wet, the raindrops dripping off her raincoat onto the window seat and carpet. Although her father had driven her over, Luna had gotten herself drenched climbing the tree so that she could reach Francesca faster.

Francesca's heart warmed at the thought, and she gave Luna a shaky smile. Then, as she continued crying in Luna's arms, clutching her friend close, she realized once again that this was what she needed—warmth. Love. Arms to hold her when she was crying and hands to wipe away her tears.

She cried out her tears as Luna held her, grateful once again for the love her friend gave her when she needed it the most.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry, monster-sized Author's Note at the end of this…

Just so this is clear, this is NOT LunaXFrancesca. That was friendship-love (agape, I think), not the sexual love (eros). Francesca's finding the acceptance that she didn't receive from her parents in Luna and her friends (and later Timothy). Just to be clear. :P

Luna uses the excuse in Volume 2 about having been comforting Francesca, that she was crying about her parents fighting, when she arrives back home after the mission when her grandparents were there. Although this is supposed to occur after Family Week, Luna's more prone to truth than lies in her innocence (at least when she can). I wondered if Luna actually had gone to comfort Francesca before, as that excuse pops out of Luna's mouth first. That's why Luna appears at the end comforting Francesca.

Francesca hasn't realized that she liked Timothy yet. They only had their first date. That's why she doesn't think of Timothy in a special way here.

Also, I purposely threw in the iPod and cell phone. I forgot if mom who commented on this (I got her to read AML!) or I thought of it, but there really isn't much technology in the series, and that's surprising, since I think the story is supposed to be present-day. You'd think that, in an elite school full of rich kids, they'd not only argue status and fashion, they also argue over who has the music first on the newest gadget, who has the most updated phone, who's getting in trouble for texting during class, and who's actually using their laptop to take notes during class and who's really on Facebook. Eh, it was just a thought. I haven't decided if I'll continue this trend or stick with how it is in the story, though. Thoughts?

Anyway, just continuing this little one-shot/drabble collection. A big thanks to Time Materia for kicking me back into writing something and HixD for your lovely reviews! I might flesh out "How Far We Have Fallen" into something longer a little later. I'm currently playing with the idea and seeing what can be done. If I do, though, it will probably be in its own story, and not within this drabble collection. Unless I just flesh out the story through snatches of time, but that's not as fun as a full story, right?

Also, for any Hetalia fans out there, Mateo is Matthew in Spanish. Matthew plus polar bear…? Hahaha, shameless Hetalia plug. Sorry, I couldn't resist.

We're at the end of this monster A/N already? Thanks if you read this far! I really hoped you enjoyed this angsty version of Francesca, and please R&R!

Hmm… Who next, who next…


	3. The Right to Rule

A/N: Welcome back to another installment of _Beneath the Mask_! (This one hasn't been updated in a while...) I was actually planning on writing something else (a surprise, although it is not a fleshed-out version of _How Far We Have Fallen_, sorry) for this fandom, but the inspiration for this drabble surprised me while I was working on a separate project. I just couldn't resist it; I wanted to catch the butterfly before it flew away from me.

This is set back in Book 1, right after Luna arrives at Nobel High but before Elizabeth begins dating Jonah.

Uncreative Disclaimer #3: The author does not own the amazingly awesome manga _Amazing Agent Luna._ That belongs to Seven Seas, Cristina Weir, Nunzio DeFillipis, Shiei, and anyone whom the title belongs to that I may have neglected to mention. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any illegal money off of this (my bank account proves it!).

Please enjoy!

* * *

The Right to Rule

* * *

Elizabeth Westbrook was _so_ mad.

No, she shouldn't dwell on it. The first rule to physical perfection (and she should know this, because she ruled the school through the might of her blonde beauty!) was not to stress. Stress made the skin more likely to wrinkle, and she _definitely_ was not risking the appearance of a white hair.

She was the prettiest girl in the school, darn it. She was the most influential. She was the most politically powerful. After all, her mother was the ambassador of England to the United States of America (a super-important position!) and her father was a powerful barrister (one who never lost!). She had power, money, and beauty on her side. She always had the newest trends and the latest gadgets. There was no boy that wouldn't fall to her charms. Everyone bowed and worshipped the ground she walked on.

So why did she feel like she was _losing_?

No. "Lose" was not in Elizabeth Westbrook's vocabulary. She never lost to anyone. Never. Never ever!

So why _did_ she feel like she was losing to the new girl? That new girl, whats-her-face—Luna Collins? (See? She was _so_ unimportant that she couldn't be bothered to remember her name right away!)

Luna Collins. Her mother was supposedly a secretary in the National Institute of Health, which might as well be the Secretary of Pointless Bureaucracy, for all the strength that position held. And her father was a psychologist. He _must_ not be worth mentioning if he didn't have his own TV show. Everyone knew that the best shrinks had TV shows.

Besides, Collins knew _nothing_ about the social hierarchy of a school. Everyone knew that you wanted in the Cool Kids and to avoid the Nobodies. Being friends with Nobodies earned your status as that in the world—a Nobody.

But what did the New Kid do? She befriended the Nobody—Oliver Riggs—on the first day! What was she _thinking_? Didn't she have a _brain_?

However, Elizabeth Westbrook was too high for that. There was no point in paying attention to the new kid now. She was far above them. She was the elite.

So then why did the school's newest bad boy, Jonah von Brucken, speak to Luna Collins on his first day of school before her?!

As if _that_ insult wasn't bad enough, Francesca Soldana was friendly with the new kid during Biology. She even offered for her to sit next to her. How could she betray all that Elizabeth stood for?

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She was overreacting when it came to Francesca. After all, being friendly was simply written into the genetic code of the Spanish girl. There wasn't a soul alive that she didn't offer a smile to, no matter how beneath they were the status of the daughter of the Spanish diplomats—who was also a direct descendant of the old Spanish aristocracy (and still a part of!), Elizabeth would add. Elizabeth only associated with the best, and although Francesca was too soft to proudly proclaim it herself, Elizabeth prided being friends with only those of the best breeding.

What was the new girl thinking of, considering Francesca her friend? Francesca was _her_ friend, darn it. She was _Elizabeth Westbrook's_ friend, not _Luna Collin's_ friend! Did Luna hang out with Francesca at the mall and invite her to shop with her since Francesca's parents were never home? (Lucky girl, though, getting to live at the mall. Still, all of that food court chow would be disastrous to her figure. She wanted Francesca's secret…) Did Luna call Francesca and tell her all about herself so that the girl wouldn't be sad over her parents fighting? Did Luna convince Francesca to give up the boyish bob haircut and allow her femininity to grace those beneath her?

No. Luna Collins had done squat.

_Elizabeth Westbrook_ was Francesca Soldana's friend. Francesca Soldana was friends with _no one else_!

Isn't that how it had always been? Didn't they become friends in middle school and been friends since?

Now that Elizabeth looked back on it, she didn't have any friends in elementary school. She hadn't known Francesca then, either. Sure, she played with the guys sometimes—even back then, they acknowledged her superior beauty!—but she avoided the girls for the most part. Her parents had told her that she was above everyone else and that she deserved the right to act as such. So she had.

But she had to admit… As nice as being superior sounded, it had been a little lonely, hadn't it?

Until she met Francesca.

Hadn't they been good friends then? They had had girl talks over tea at a local tea shop, and they shopped at the mall together. Elizabeth was the one who turned tomboy Francesca into the girl she was now, remember? Hadn't they shared secret crushes and gone to the movies together? Elizabeth couldn't remember having been with anyone else.

When had it changed? Did it change when they got into high school, when Ashley and Heather had joined their group? (Ashley was a descendant of the French aristocracy and Heather was from the Irish elite. They were just high enough in status to join—she still screened!) She did admit that she had less and less bonding time with Francesca, since she spent most of the time trying to teach Amy and Heather how to be popular. Amy learned quickly; Heather, not as fast, but she allowed her to stay because there was still hope for her.

When was the last time she had real bonding with Francesca? She couldn't remember. It had to have been back in middle school. It was definitely before high school. Before Amy and Heather. Before she decided to start actively seeking boys' attention.

Did Francesca leave because she hadn't paid enough attention to her most consistent follower?

Perhaps that was it.

Well, it didn't matter. Francesca would return to her as soon as she reminded her that there was no hope for social popularity by hanging out with the likes of Luna Collins and Oliver Riggs. Francesca was one of her kind—she cared about her social mobility. She had to. She was a descendant (and member!) of the old Spanish aristocracy, was she not?

After she had reminded Francesca to watch her place, then she would remind Jonah of his—although not so point-blank. Luna had been rejecting his attention. _Why_ the new girl held such stupidity, Elizabeth could not fathom. But she had, and that made a difference for Elizabeth—it assured Elizabeth of her coming victory over Jonah's affections.

She _would_ win Francesca back and claim Jonah for herself. He was the son of the Count of Bruckenstein—he was an honest-to-goodness prince! Elizabeth deserved to date nothing less than a real prince. There was no way he would turn her down.

Elizabeth would right the world that began flipping as soon as Luna Collins stepped into the school.

Actually, she would start with Jonah. He would be easiest; he was a boy. Then, she would speak to Francesca. Her world would then return to normal, and she could go back to forgetting Luna Collins ever existed.

Elizabeth Westbrook smiled. No one usurped her authority over the school. No one ever had, and Luna Collins wasn't about to be the first.

She was the queen. Elizabeth Westbrook just needed to straighten her crown to remind everyone else of its existence.

* * *

A/N: And now we have heard from the British Queen of Nobel High—er, I mean Elizabeth Westbrook. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Although does no one else think that she would make a title like that for herself if she could? (EDIT: Just in case, I felt that I should add: please don't get me wrong. This is not a jab in any way at the British monarchy. I actually have a high respect for them-just not the fictional Elizabeth Westbrook.)

This is definitely not as intense as the last two, but I haven't gotten very deep vibes from Elizabeth. I was tempted to go deeper, and a part of me felt that she wanted me to go angsty over Francesca, but the other part of me felt that she kept pushing that away in favor of retaining her ingrained snobbiness. Right now, at Nobel High, she's too focused on superficiality, on popularity contests and boys. I think if I wrote her in middle school, I could pull a deeper girl from her, given the background I currently have for her and Francesca. Hm… Is that a hint at a second update on our favorite Westbrook? (Even the author doesn't know yet...)

At any rate, you may get _something_ else sooner rather than later, since I'm planning on rereading the series as a whole. I ordered the volumes that I didn't have, and now I have read Volumes 8 and 9 and Amazing Agent Jennifer. :D

The downside to this for you, though, is that I may decide not to write that fleshed out version to _How Far Have We Fallen_ after all (if you're hoping for one), since that was written as speculation for Volume 8, which had not been released at the time that I wrote it. That arc was concluded with Volume 9, and now that we have the real story, I haven't decided if I will pursue a probably darker AU. What is your opinion on this? (This also depends on how many more projects the author is willing to take on now. She may deem it better to finish others first. So many projects and so many plot bunnies…!)

Also, I wanted to correct something from my Author's Note in the last chapter. There is some technology usage that I had missed—cell phones are used in Volume 7 (I can't remember right now if they're in Volume 6 or not, though, but I'm leaning toward no). So, I apologize for my error, and I am happy to announce that, at least for my personal preferences, one of my favorite stories based in our world now feels closer to modern-day. There is also increased technological usage in the newest volumes, so I was very happy.

And thank you for wading through another monstrous Author's Note! I hope that you enjoyed this newest post, and have a good day, everyone!


	4. A Spaniard with Red Hair?

Uncreative Disclaimer #4: The author does not own the amazingly awesome manga _Amazing Agent Luna._ That belongs to Seven Seas, Cristina Weir, Nunzio DeFillipis, Shiei, and anyone whom the title belongs to that I may have neglected to mention. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Before I forget, this is set during Family Week in Volume 2. I hope you enjoy this short Francesca-centric drabble!

* * *

A Spaniard with Red Hair?

* * *

After acquiring their lunch, Luna and Francesca wandered around the noisy cafeteria until they found Luna's family. They were already seated at one of the long tables and conversing about the cafeteria food, but they looked up immediately upon the arrival of the girls.

"Ah, Luna and Francesca are here," Mrs. Kajiwara announced as the girls sat down at the table.

Francesca smiled amiably. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Kajiwara. Thank you again for adopting the orphan today."

"So polite, isn't she, Benjiro?" Luna's grandmother complimented. Mr. Kajiwara nodded as Luna grinned, happy that her family was getting along with her best friend.

Mr. Kajiwara looked up from his tray. "I meant to ask you earlier, but I missed the opportunity. You are Spanish, correct, _Francesca_?"

Francesca was secretly pleased to hear her name accented in her native tongue. "Yes, sir. I am," she replied happily. "I was born and raised in Seville. My parents are the Spanish ambassadors to the United States, although they're away on business in Spain right now."

"Well, that's too bad," murmured Mrs. Kajiwara. "It would have been nice to meet your parents, as well. I'm sure they're just as nice as you are." She smiled kindly at Francesca.

Francesca paused for a second, not sure how to respond. The truth was that her parents came home rarely, and during the occasions they visited (unfortunately, "visited" was the proper verb), they fought. There was no need to darken to the conversation with mention of it, though. She simply smiled the comment off.

Luna's eyebrows creased as she sensed Francesca's momentary discomfort. She changed the topic, saying, "So what do you all think of the cafeteria food?"

Dr. Collins was about to comment, but Luna's grandfather sat back in a huff. "How do you kids eat stuff like this nowadays? Surely, you receive better food than this, if you're paying for it!"

Francesca chuckled. "Don't worry, Mr. Kajiwara. No one has died yet, right?"

"Well, if you're paying for it, they really should serve better quality food for you…" he persisted, gesturing to the tiny side salad with wilting lettuce. "Look at that! It probably sat out for a day or two before they served this!"

"I think all cafeteria food is the same," Dr. Collins offered with a chuckle.

"I say that food is food," inputted Control. "It doesn't matter what it tastes like, as long as you have some source of nutrients to keep you going."

Luna grinned at the differing opinions before offering, "I think it's good," before she bit into her forkful of Salisbury steak.

* * *

The group chatted amiably about the girls' classes before Luna's grandmother spoke up again. "I'm sorry for changing the subject, but I've been meaning to say that you have gorgeous red hair, Francesca."

Francesca grinned again. "Thank you very much! My grandfather claims that I look just like my grandmother did when she was my age, except that my eyes are brown instead of green."

"Neither of parents have red hair?" Luna asked confusedly. "I would have assumed that you got it from one of them."

"Nope! I got this thanks to my maternal grandmother and paternal great-grandfather!" Francesca replied cheerily with a shake of her head.

"I had wondered about that," commented Mr. Kajiwara. "After all, I have never seen a Spaniard with red hair before."

Luna tilted her head cutely as she asked, looking curiously at Francesca, "Spaniards can't have red hair? Why not?"

"There's nothing saying that a Spaniard can't have red hair, Luna," Control explained. "It's just that, genetically-speaking, red hair does not occur naturally within the Spanish phenotype. Red hair is found strictly in the Irish phenotype, and it occurs in combination of red hair and green eyes, more often than not." Control paused for a second before replying, "I was actually surprised that you didn't inherit the green eyes—since you inherited the red hair—but I guess that the Spaniard blood was stronger in you. Regardless, seeing the red hair come out dominant was surprising, to say the least."

Francesca nodded. "Yes, pure-blooded Spaniards have blonde hair and blue eyes. European Spaniards who have dark-colored hair and eyes have Moorish influence from the time when the Moors had conquered most of Spain. I have some of the eye color—not much, since my eyes are not dark brown—but that's it." Francesca chucked, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I stick out like a sore thumb back home in Spain. I honestly hadn't expected any of you to know about that."

Control smiled lightly. "I studied genetics a long time ago, and still remember most of the information. Phenotypes were simply another chapter that we studied. It was interesting learning where all of the different traits originated."

"It is," Francesca agreed with a nod.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this short, speculative drabble! This sprouted from wondering how Francesca could be Spanish if she has red hair (besides the fact that this is fiction). Genetically-speaking, as far as I have understood, red hair has _only_ stemmed from those with Irish blood, and it either occurs usually or always in combination with green eyes (I can't remember which, sorry). To allow for her brown eyes, I erred on the side of usually. However, I figure that she must have some Irish blood further back in her family tree, most likely on each side, in order to allow the gene to surface. But yes, pure-blooded Spaniards have blonde hair and blue eyes.

No surprise that our genetics expert, Control, offered the explanation.

I will admit that I did not double-check this information online. Everything mentioned here is information that I have learned prior either at home or in class. If something is wrong, you are free to correct me (although please do it politely), and I'll add a note about it. (But just in case anyone wants to jump on me for how/why did I learn this... allow me to explain that I have Spanish blood further back and it was interesting to learn about it.)

Don't ask me how Oliver has green hair, though. That is a phenomenon that I cannot explain… except with the fact that this is manga, lol. BUT who else thinks now that our favorite Spaniard must have Irish blood? :D Please R&R!


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